


Wasted Daylight

by themorninglark



Series: title prompt challenges [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Manga spoilers - Chapter 119, Reminiscences about quitting, Summer Camp, Third Year, captaincy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 02:00:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5649583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/themorninglark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Chikara swallows. He studies the boy next to him, thinks of a snippet of conversation, a fact that's stuck with him since he heard it. In the daylight hours with everyone else around, he'd never dare to be quite so bold, but - maybe now -</p>
  <p>"Hinata told me once that you... In your first year, you wanted to quit."</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	Wasted Daylight

**Author's Note:**

> This scenario has been percolating in my mind for a while now, and eventually came out of a prompt challenge with [nein](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nein/pseuds/nein), who gave me this title and... kicked off this thing that was meant to be a drabble. (It is not a drabble, I'm sorry.) 
> 
> //cracks champagne bottle on first use of this AO3 ship tag!! woooo
> 
> (Check out the absolutely hilarious [That Is Not What the Door's For](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5662015), nein's response to my title prompt!)

Chikara's woken by footsteps.

Well - no, if he's being entirely honest with himself, that isn't true, because he's already awake. He's been lying, wide awake, awake and unnaturally still, hesitant to toss and turn, in case he wakes up the snoring Nishinoya and strangely mumbly Kinoshita on either side of him.

And it's not the footsteps that catch his attention. In truth, the footsteps are so soft they could have padded right by their dorm and no one would have noticed, even though the doors and windows are wide open in the summer heat, and he can hear every little noise, from the cicadas' song to the buzzing of the street lights and telephone wires.

It's the light.

It sears his hazy vision, suddenly, and Chikara's eyelids peel open to something unreal, a silent shadow in the dark lit by a square, ghostly illumination. There's a flash of white, blinking, pixellated; Chikara thinks he sees reflected gold, and then he thinks, _oh._

 

* * *

 

In the daytime, the hours tick by:

Measured in the distance that leads away from the gym, in swaths of freedom and orange popsicles on hot days, the steady whirr of a fan, the seconds it takes for lips to curve up into a reluctant, helpless smile of realisation -

Measured in the clock of a virtual world, in fights and NPC encounters that shape one's fate, hair's-breadth moments of dodging and swiping, in the points that go towards building a character's stats.

 

> Power: 1/5
> 
> Jumping: 2/5
> 
> Stamina: 2/5
> 
> Game Sense: 5/5
> 
> Technique: 5/5
> 
> Speed: 3/5

 

* * *

 

He throws off his covers and sits up. Carefully, slowly, he gets to his feet and circles the futons on his way to the door, tiptoeing in the gaps in between.

His own tread isn't quite as noiseless, but he, too, has done his time watching, and going unnoticed.

He slips out without incident, casts a quick glance both ways.

_There he is._

Like a will o' the wisp, floating aimlessly down the dark of the corridor, there he is, and Chikara, his curiosity a warm fever and his insomnia persistent, follows. He seems to be heading outdoors, towards the doorstep at the back of the dormitories. It's stifling, here in the building and the trapped heat of the concrete walls. Chikara doesn't blame him.

It's not difficult for Chikara to chase this particular phantom -

(others, _others_ , close to his heart, he does not think about, not now - )

\- or at least, that's what he thinks.

The figure rounds a corner, stops in the open doorway, and turns around.

There's nothing sudden about the movement. There never is, with him. Everything he does is considered, deliberate; Chikara's noticed that from his time on the benches last year, and now from the other side of a net. And yet, he has caught Chikara off guard anyway.

"Karasuno's captain," he says softly.

Chikara smiles.

"Nekoma's setter," he replies, with a nod.

And Kozume Kenma raises a self-conscious hand to his hair, untucks it from behind his ear so it spills over his cheek, casts his face in the shade where Chikara can't see. His other arm falls to his side, game paused, still bright and pulsing.

 

* * *

 

(if only it were as easy as grinding a few bosses, in real life, and seeing the numbers jump -

(if only it were as easy as making a decision, and sticking to it.

Heads down, the hours tick by, _tick, tick_ , inexorable.)

 

* * *

 

"I'm sorry if I startled you," says Chikara. "I couldn't sleep, and then I saw you pass by…"

Kenma pauses. His gold-lit gaze is startling in the moonlight. It flickers up to meet Chikara's, briefly, then back down towards his feet, the doorstep just beyond them.

Wordlessly, he sits down and edges over to one side, pressing himself close to the wall of the doorframe so there's enough space for someone else to sit next to him.

Chikara takes his cue. The concrete step is pleasantly cool on his bare thighs.

They do not speak, for a while. Kenma unpauses his game and immerses himself right back into it. Chikara rests his arms on his knees, stares out into the backyard and listens to the quiet sounds of breathing, the press of buttons and, in the sweltering summer night, the cicadas.

He does not know what time it is. Somehow, it doesn't feel like it matters right now.

 

* * *

 

In the scorching heat of the afternoon, there aren't many places to hide.

They find them anyway. Under bridges, behind closed doors.

And the sun sets on another meandering riverside, in Miyagi, in Nerima, shadows long on the ground, stray thoughts adrift on the evening breeze:

 

_where did the day go?_

 

* * *

 

When he sees Kenma reach a save point in his game, after a boss fight, Chikara opens his mouth with a tentative question. He feels like he kind of knows the answer already - he's seen the way he yawns all the time, the dark eye rings - but he asks it anyway, by way of an inoffensive conversation starter.

"Do you always have trouble sleeping?"

Kenma turns, looks up at him.

"Yeah," he says. "You?"

Chikara smiles wanly.

"Only recently. After Inter-High."

Kenma's eyebrows lift, ever so slightly. Chikara sees something flicker across his inscrutable expression, something like a flash of understanding as he lowers his PSP and murmurs, _ah_ , so softly that Chikara barely hears it.

"Shouyou texted me after the semi-finals. After you. Um. Lost… I'm sorry."

Chikara shakes his head. "It's okay. It's true, we lost."

There must be something in his voice then, something about the way his breath catches in his throat, something Chikara himself doesn't notice but Kenma does, because in that split second, in the single syllable of that word, _lost, lost -_

He hears a quiet sigh, sees Kenma's head tilt back, hair falling out of his face; his lips part to draw breath, and when he finally speaks with a lingering hesitation, he looks Chikara straight in the eye for once.

"It wasn't your fault," he says.

"I'm the captain," Chikara counters.

Kenma shrugs. "It's about the team."

Chikara swallows. He studies the boy next to him, thinks of a snippet of conversation, a fact that's stuck with him since he heard it. In the daylight hours with everyone else around, he'd never dare to be quite so bold, but - maybe now -

"Hinata told me once that you... In your first year, you wanted to quit."

Kenma looks surprised, like he's taken aback Hinata would find him worth talking about to anyone else. He nods.

"I did too," Chikara continues. "And the thing is, I - _I_ actually quit. I ran away because it was too tough. But they made me captain anyway. Isn't that funny?"

The tiny smile that spreads across Kenma's face is tinged with understanding.

It's a rare sight, thinks Chikara, looking at him; he's so often deep in thought, calmly, coolly taking in everything, that even when his side scores a point, he hardly smiles in celebration with the rest of his team.

"I still think it's too tough," says Kenma. "When it's hot, I don't like to run."

"Exactly. We could be under the air-con, enjoying the cool indoors…"

"Blocking when a spike is really strong hurts. Diving for the ball is difficult."

Chikara can't help the small chuckle that escapes his lips.

"So why didn't you quit?" he asks.

"Kuro told me not to," says Kenma. He pauses, looking down again, as if staring at the digital white of his screen will help him collect his thoughts; maybe it does.

"I guess my friends needed me," he adds. "And I didn't have anything else to do. It's not like I was stronger than you because I stayed… and it's not like you were weak."

Chikara leans forward, rests his chin on his arms and hugs his knees in a little closer.

"It's not, huh," he repeats, smiling. "Well… I think you're strong for staying."

Kenma seems to freeze up at that for a moment, like no one's ever said it to him before.

Chikara hears a quick inhale, sees his fragile, delicate gaze dart upwards, hold his own - not for too long, never for too long, but picking up on the smallest of signs is what they both do anyway.

They don't need much to understand.

 

* * *

 

_where did the day go -_

 

(to idle wandering, wondering; to walking on the banks of possibility, watching the current flow one way, letting doubts and inertia build up into a dam -

washed away gently by a sleepless night.)

 

And when the sun rises in the morning, they let the light come in.

 

**Author's Note:**

> (whispers: if you like ennoken come talk to me on twitter @nahyutas)


End file.
